


Unlikely Heroes

by Emmitha



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A german guy dies, Bucky and Loki are friends, Bucky curses, But they don't kill each other and they work together, But what story with Loki doesn't have mild stabbing, Gen, Shuri is a bro, So mild stabbing, Sort Of, and also just generally the best, bucky has a headache, like a lot, not really - Freeform, so it kind of counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmitha/pseuds/Emmitha
Summary: In a world where Thanos minded his own business and Thor brought the people of Asgard to Earth, Loki and Bucky team up to take out the remnants of Hydra in order to better their reputations--they just have to manage not to kill each other, first. Written for the Reverse Big Bang.





	1. Promises and Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unlikely Heroes - Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905865) by [RenneMichaelsArt (RenneMichaels)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenneMichaels/pseuds/RenneMichaelsArt). 



> All the thanks in the world to RenneMichaels for creating the amazing art that inspired this story, and who put up with me only communicating in bursts throughout this whole process. You have the patience of a saint. Thanks also to my beta reader, Locketaroundyourthroat. She has a story, too; you should check it out.

[Unlikely Heroes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905865)

Bucky waded past the clump of children that danced around his tent each morning. The children of Wakanda were fascinated by him. His skin, his hair, his stub of a left arm; it didn’t seem to matter to them that he’d been there for close to two months. Each morning they found the same interest in him that they’d found that very first day.

For the first few weeks, it had been almost more than he could bear. He was so on edge, so raw in the senses, that these laughing children who _insisted on running in circles around him_ drove him to beg Shuri to throw him back in cryo on more than one occasion. She refused each time, insisting that “Freezing your brain isn’t going to fix it, Sergeant Barnes.”

She was probably right. It was a fairly novel concept to him; the last seventy years of his life (and really, that was _never_ not going to be a weird thought) had consisted of him being thrown in cryo every time it looked like his brain might even be on the verge of doing something wrong (or right). And yet here he was, walking in the hot Wakandan sun, and very much _not_ frozen.

But if he had learned anything in the last two months, it was to never, _never_ question Shuri.

Eventually, Bucky walked far enough from the village that the children turned back and left him to his thoughts. His thoughts which consisted largely of marking the areas of the surrounding field that could conceal a human (or alien—the world had gotten weird) and occasionally monitoring the skies for passing planes (or flying humans/aliens. The world had gotten _weird_ ), but _his_ thoughts nonetheless.

He continued down the familiar path, his eyes sweeping the area, until he reached the lake he went to every day. Something deep within his brain railed against establishing patterns, but there was little else for him to do in the remote village, and at least people left him alone here. He was still very much of the opinion that he should stay as far away from people as possible—especially the children that seemed to take such interest in him—but Shuri demanded he have at least _some_ human contact.

Reaching the lake, Bucky paused next to the single, scraggly tree that shaded the water, and put it to his back. Something shifted in the field of tall grass. Turning, he spread his legs so that he carried his weight evenly and wondered how adept he would be at fighting with only one arm. “Show yourself,” he demanded.

There was silence for a moment, as the apparently empty field continued to be an empty field. Then there was a long-suffering sigh, and a tall, pale man with inky hair shimmered into existence right where the long tan grass was almost imperceptibly parted.

“Well, that was a bit disappointing,” the man drawled in a crisp English accent. He folded his arms behind his back. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less, given your purported skill set, but, still; you rather stole my…thunder.”

Bucky’s face remained impassive as ever. “You’re Loki,” he stated. His thoughts raced; he’d gotten caught up on world events (the major ones, at least: he did have _seventy years’ worth_ to catch up on. Unsurprisingly, alien events topped the list. Surprisingly, there was _a metric fuck-ton of alien events_ ) which included learning all about the (apparently real) Norse trickster god who currently stood in front of him, smiling calmly and giving off a distinct air of ‘I’m gonna fuck shit up _so much_.’

“And you’re Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky, also known as the Winter Soldier,” Loki returned. “Pleasure.” There was a beat of silence from both parties. When it became clear Bucky had no intention of breaking the silence, Loki sighed. “Honestly, you’ve no sense of the dramatic. Are you going to ask me why I’m here or not?”

“I figured you’d get to it eventually; you seem like the type that likes to hear yourself talk.” Bucky remained perfectly still, running through his options. He was too far away to yell for help and, really, who was going to come anyway? The village elders? Not anyone who would stand a chance against _a literal fucking god_ , at any rate. Luckily for him, Loki really _did_ like to hear himself talk, giving Bucky plenty of time to plan.

“I require your assistance—” Loki started before Bucky cut him off, startled from his plans.

“You need my what now?”

Loki glared. “I _require_ your _assistance_ ,” he continued, his calm façade slipping to reveal annoyance for the first time since he appeared.

“With what? Taking over the world? Didn’t you already try that?”

Loki waved the statement off. “That was one time, and it was nearly ten years ago. Let it go.”

Bucky blinked. “You brought an army of aliens into the middle of New York. _Into Brooklyn_.”

“What’s a Brooklyn?” Loki asked flippantly, and then carried on, apparently oblivious to the aura of outrage now pouring off of Bucky. “As you may have heard, my brother moved the entire population of Asgard to Norway—”

“He did _what?_ ” Bucky demanded, feeling a bit feint. It’s not like there weren’t ways to get news in the village Bucky was staying in—this was Wakanda. There were many, many ways. But he’d (very intentionally) been avoiding news of the outside world. And Shuri hadn’t come to see him in several weeks; she’d been too busy with the technology outreach program her brother had set up. But that an _entire planet’s worth_ of people had been moved to Norway, _and he had missed it?_ He really had been out of it lately.

“Are you going to interrupt every sentence, or may I speak?” Loki snapped. Bucky remained silent—more because he was still reeling form the news than any real courtesy, but Loki accepted it nonetheless. “Thank you,” Loki snapped. “As I was saying, my brother moved Asgard here, to Midgard—Earth. And for _some reason_ , you mortals are not particularly fond of me.” Bucky snorted, and Loki glared before continuing. “Therefore, I require your assistance.”

“Besides the fact that I am the _last_ person who could help you win over an entire planet, why the fuck would I help you, anyway?” Bucky demanded.

Loki winced theatrically. “My, my, Sgt. Barnes; whatever would your mother say at such crass language?” Bucky glared, but waited. Loki sighed. “I am aware that you are currently rather—ah, shall we say, unpopular—with the Earth’s population, however, I believe this is where we could help each other.” Bucky quirked an eyebrow. “Consider your Hulk—”

“Never met the guy,” Bucky interrupted.

“I was speaking of the general “you,” Loki sighed, exasperated. “The Hulk was hated and considered a monster until he joined with the Avengers ten years ago—”

“And beat you into the ground,” Bucky added.

“—And now the green idiot is adored,” Loki continued, ignoring Bucky’s interjection with a wince. “Likewise, if we banned together, we could similarly restore our own reputations, and be allowed to live amongst our people without fear of retribution.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. “How many people tried to kill you when you got here?” He asked abruptly.

“Seven, on the first day. It was rather tiring.”

Bucky went silent again, and then shook his head. “Nah. Not worth it. You’d turn around and stab me at the first chance.”

“Has Thor told _everyone_ that story?” Loki demanded, irritated.

Bucky blinked. “I’ve never met Thor. What story?”

“Never mind,” Loki said hurriedly, waving his hand again. “I will not stab, kill, or maim you.” He eyed Bucky’s stubbed arm. “Someone beat me to that last one, anyway.”

Bucky glared. “And why would I trust the word of the God of Lies?”

“Mischief. God of _mischief_. And besides, when have you ever known me to lie?” Loki asked smoothly.

“You convinced Thor to go unarmed to a giant’s hall so that a giant could murder him.”

Loki paused. “Huh. I’d forgotten about Geirrod. Why do you know about Geirrod?”

“I was told I needed a hobby. So, I decided to study Norse myths.”

“May I ask why?”

“Recon.”

“Huh.” Loki was quiet for a moment, considering this new bit of information. “I can remove the trigger words from your mind.”

Bucky froze. Remove the trigger words? Was it possible? Shuri’d been helping him with that, but it was slow going. For all the medical advancements the Wakandan’s had made over the years, the brain was still almost a complete mystery. Undoing the damage done to him by Hydra would take years—if it could be undone at all. He’d mostly accepted, at this point, that he’d be stuck in this Wakandan village for the rest of his life, however long that was. But if Loki was telling the truth…

And that’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? If Loki was telling the truth. Loki had been called the Lie-Smith for a reason. He could very well just be telling Bucky what he wanted to hear, and Bucky had only his word to take for it.

“Fine. Remove the words, then I’ll help you.”

Loki’s smile crept across his face like a cat, slow and predatory. “Now, now; what kind of a business man gives payment up front? Help me with this, _then_ I’ll remove the words.”

Bucky cursed under his breath, his mind racing at the possibility. What did he know about Loki? He had magic. He used lies and tricks as dangerously as he used knives. Thor had apparently brought him back to Earth. “Why did Thor bring you here, anyway, when the entire planet wants you dead?” Bucky asked absently, sorting through his increasingly loud thoughts.

Loki grimaced. “The oaf thought that since he forgave me, the rest of the population would follow suit.”

Thor forgave him? Well, if the myths (and the few stories he’d heard from Steve) were anything to go by, that wasn’t too out of character. Still, it didn’t particularly help him here, now. “Why should I trust you? No—” Bucky snapped, as Loki opened his mouth. “Don’t spin me some pretty story. Give me one _real_ , concrete reason why I should help you. Some example that you’re not as slimy as your hair.”

“Well, that’s just _rude_ ,” Loki, muttered, smoothing one hand over his hair almost self-consciously. He fell silent for a moment, which Bucky had to appreciate; for all intents and purposes, the god was taking his request seriously. “My father died, recently,” Loki said abruptly, his eyes slightly unfocused as he looked past Bucky’s face and off toward the lake. “It wasn’t my fault, really,” this almost defensively, “but…due to my…actions…Thor did not get to be with our father during his final days. We were there to say goodbye, yes, but it was all over in a manner of minutes.” Loki was silent for a moment, frowning and still looking past Bucky. “In those final minutes, he called me ‘son.’ I don’t remember the last time he claimed me.” Loki fell silent again, and then seemed to shake something off. His eyes flicked to Bucky’s face. “My father is dead. My mother is dead. All I have left is Thor. Call me sentimental, but…” he shrugged. “I’d rather like to be able to visit him without fear of retribution whenever I should choose. At the moment, that is not possible.”

Bucky considered the words. They seemed sincere—as sincere as possible, anyway—but that could just be some particularly good acting from Loki. It wasn’t too hard to believe—it was _Loki_. At the same time, the god was offering him a chance not just at redemption, but at salvation.

And honestly, wasn’t redemption its own form of salvation, at this point? Bucky had done so many terrible things while under Hydra’s control. Steve, Shuri, even T’Challa—they all liked to tell him that he hadn’t been in control, that that wasn’t him. But he remembered every moment. Even when the memories of his life before were fuzzy, even when he struggled to remember his mother’s face, he could remember every bullet and every stab and every face of the ones he had killed. To do something, _anything_ to balance the scales a bit, and to ensure that he could never be used like that again…

“What did you have in mind?” He asked at last.

Loki’s smile spread slowly.

 

 


	2. Explanations and Preparations

“I thought we’d start simple,” Loki explained as the odd pair stood side-by-side staring out at the lake. “Over the past century, you, your captain, and various others have attempted to destroy the force known as ‘Hydra.’” Bucky’s face betrayed no emotion, but his brain snarled at the name. “While your efforts have been…admirable, you’ve managed little more than to whittle their forces down. They may no longer be an army, but they are still here, and they still hold a considerable amount of power.”

“What about Natasha’s release of the documents?” Bucky demanded. He’d gone through those documents himself, trying to piece his life together. In the end, he’d decided he’d rather get his life’s story from the history books and museums than the terribly descriptive files. “Shouldn’t all of the members have been identified from that?”

Loki scoffed. “An organization that old and that experienced and that entrenched in espionage knew better than to place all of their information on something so easily obtained as a _computer_ ,” he said contemptuously. “I’m surprised your Widow didn’t think of that; she herself has plenty of secrets that weren’t contained within that breach.”

Well. That was dismaying (and interesting. Bucky made a mental note to find out just what Loki knew about Natasha that wasn’t contained in those files, and how exactly he learned it. Maybe this was something better off classified as _fucking terrifying_.). “You seem to know a lot about computers. And Hydra.”

Loki waved a hand, exasperated. “Your Midgardian technology is millennia behind that of Asgard; it wasn’t difficult to figure out. As for Hydra, well…” he shrugged. “I’ve been bored. And it’s rather easy to infiltrate a secure organization when you can shape-shift and turn invisible at will.”

Well, yeah, Bucky guessed that would help a bit. “So, what do you suggest, then?”

“I believe I have the names and locations of all prominent Hydra members still in play. You and I will go in and eliminate them. Simple.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Very simple. Why do you need me?”

“Well, this might come as a shock to you, but some people find me hard to believe.”

Bucky snorted. “No shit.”

“And while you may not be the most liked or believed person on the planet, you have an undeniable connection to the organization.” Loki turned his head from the lake to consider Bucky. “The people we will be targeting, Sgt. Barnes, are very powerful, politically. If I were to remove them on my own, it would simply look like an attempt to destabilize various governments, which could in turn be thought to be a part of a world domination scheme.” He scoffed, his face contorting with disdain. “As if I would ever participate in something so simple minded.” His face smoothed, and he continued. “If you, however, the one-time tool of the organization is seen carrying out the deed, and then presenting evidence of their connection to Hydra, well, that would be a much more compelling story, don’t you think?” The god raised an eyebrow with a grin. “You people love your ‘underdog’ stories, your redemption arcs. The whole world will simply devour the story of the man who was so grossly misused coming to take vengeance on his jailers whilst simultaneously saving the people from a monster they always knew couldn’t be trusted: politicians.” Loki paused. “And I’ll be there in the background, of course, helping out and showing that there’s more to me than attempted world domination.”

Bucky blinked. “That’s…” What was the word he was looking for? “ _Fucking_ insane.” There, that was it. “You’re pinning everything about this plan on the _entire population of the world_ being sentimental and cheering on an assassin that’s been active for over half a century. That’s a lot to get past, even without the mother-fucking asshole who destroyed half of New York and killed several thousand people prancing around _‘in the background.’_ ”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting some very important facts.” Loki started counting off on his long fingers. “One: You’re Steve Rogers’s best friend. That honestly counts for a lot more than it should with many of the people on your planet.”

“Steve’s a fugitive now,” Bucky pointed out.

“Like I said: it counts for more than it should. Two: you were cleared of the bombing at the U.N. and it was revealed that the _actual_ bomber had ties to the organization that once controlled you. Once that connection was made, it wasn’t long before people began postulating that the real bomber—who, conveniently, had disguised himself as a _psychologist_ , of all things—had managed to brainwash you just like your previous handlers.”

Bucky frowned. “But Zemo wasn’t in Hydra. He only knew how to activate me because he found the codes.”

Loki shrugged. “Seeing as various governments answered the question ‘Is Zemo a part of Hydra’ with ‘We can neither confirm nor deny,’ the people made their own decision.”

Bucky’s head was reeling. What was even happening in the world?

“And finally,” Loki ticked off a third finger, “people tend to find me irresistibly loveable, so it’s only a matter of time until all is forgiven.”

Bucky blinked at Loki. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Loki sighed. “Yes, fine. I plan on telling them that the same magic that allowed me to take over the minds of various Midgardians was also used on me, and I was only a puppet for a more nefarious presence.” He paused. “It’s not even really a lie, not the big parts, anyway.”

“Should I even ask?” Bucky could feel a headache coming on. As well as massive amounts of regret and misgivings.

“It would probably be a waste of time,” Loki said breezily, waving it off.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, considering. It _might_ work. Loki did have a point; the average person was terribly sentimental and quick to forgive, especially when presented with an even bigger evil to pin the blame on. It was possible this could work. They wouldn’t be _loved_ , by any means, but there would probably be fewer calls for their immediate execution.

“One thing,” Bucky sighed, regretting his implied acquiescence even as he said it. “We don’t kill them.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I hadn’t expected you to be squeamish.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not, but…I’m trying to be better, and being better means not going on a murder spree just because I feel like it’s justified. In any case, killing elected officials in the name of justice is frowned upon, no matter who they have ties to. We’ll look more legitimate if we turn over evidence and help with their arrest.”

It was Loki’s turn to take a thoughtful pause. “That’s…a fairly logical point.” He grimaced. “Fine. We detain them and provide the proof that they have ties to Hydra and have used their power and position for nefarious purposes. How do we get the proof?”

Bucky shrugged. “You said you were good with computers. You hack in, I’ll tell you what to look for. We present the data and the perp to the local intelligence agency with a copy of the story for the local news to make sure we get credit and nothing is hushed up.”

Loki nodded reluctantly. “As sound a plan as any, I suppose. Now then, the sooner we get started, the better. Do you have a spare arm laying around?”

“Shuri’s been making me a new one,” Bucky said, resigned. _‘This is your best option, this is your best option, this is your best option…’_ He thought to himself repeatedly. And wasn’t that just fucking depressing.

“Excellent. Tell me where she keeps it, and I shall retrieve it.”

“Hell no, I am not stealing from Shuri!” The very thought made him shudder. He could destroy her twelve different ways without breaking a sweat (which was not something he’d ever thought he’d be able to say, growing up) but probably not before she did something that made the rest of his life a living hell. And that was without her brother and Okoye stepping in. Also, he was fairly fond of the feisty princess. However terrifying she was.

Loki tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “She is just a child, yes? I hadn’t heard anything about her being enhanced in any way.” He asked.

Bucky shook his head. “She’s not enhanced, not in the way you mean, but she’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, and she can hold a grudge like no one’s business.”

Loki snorted. “I’ve met the literal god of vengeance; I’m sure this child is nothing I can’t handle.”

Bucky shook his head vigorously. “Vidar has nothing on Shuri.”

Loki sighed with annoyance. “Then how do you propose we get the arm?”

Bucky shrugged. “We ask her?”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later, and the pair arrived at the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland. Loki had chosen to remain invisible during this portion of their trip, as it seemed rather unlikely that he would be well received.

Loki had transported them here with his magic, a trip that Bucky had _not_ enjoyed in the slightest. Once they had stolen Bucky some clothes that would better enable him to blend in (it was really only Shuri that he had an objection about stealing form), they’d made their way to the outreach center, Bucky keeping his head down and adjusting his gait to account for any gait recognition watching for him.

“How exactly are you going to get to her?” Loki hissed from somewhere to his left. “Or don’t you think the princess of the newly recognized most powerful nation in the world will be under constant surveillance?”

“I plan on knocking.” Bucky ignored the sputtering sounds coming from the invisible god and walked into the official looking building. There were groups of tourists packed into the little lobby, which featured various Wakandan artifacts and cultural exhibits. “Ladies and gentlemen, the next tour will be starting in five minutes. We have a few spots left, so please, if you haven’t already registered, you can do so at the main desk!” A well-dressed woman called brightly from the back of the room.

Bucky made his way to the desk and scrounged up his most charming smile for the woman sitting there. “Hi, I’d like to sign up for the tour, please.”

“$35.00,” the disinterested woman said, barely glancing away from her computer. He handed the woman the money, and she handed him his ticket without further conversation.

Murmuring a quick “Thanks,” Bucky made his way over to the clump of tourists. Loki grumbled behind him but fell silent as they joined with the group. Bucky ducked his head and tugged down his ball cap. If he were someone else, he might have smiled in triumph at forcing the chatty-god’s silence. But he was who he was, and so he breezed past the victory and took a quick count of the tour group. There was one tour guide (Wakandan; perky attitude that was only half for show), and fourteen tourists (varying ethnicities, three different languages, one enhanced person, and only three possible fighters). And, of course, one invisible god of mischief sulking in the back of the group.

Should be interesting.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s be on our way!” The tour guide chirped. She led them through the door and down a wide, well-lit hallway. “Two years ago, Wakanda decided to reveal its technological capacity to rest of the world. The decision was made to build this outreach center in Oakland.” the tour guide informed them as they walked. Bucky tuned her out. He held his spot at the back of the group and made sure to lag a bit behind the others.

“How much of this insipid drivel will I have to listen to?” Loki demanded from behind him.

“It’s been thirty seconds,” Bucky hissed. There was a quiet “Harrumph,” and then a return to silence.

The tour was only supposed to be thirty minutes long, and Bucky didn’t really know the layout of the building—Loki’s insistence on speed had prevented him from doing any of the recognizance he would have normally insisted on. Going in blind like this made his trigger finger twitch a bit, but he just kept trying to remind himself that he was here on a friendly visit, that asking for Shuri if they were caught would probably solve everything, and, if all else failed, he had a millennia-old Norse god with him that could arrange a quick escape for them if need be.

God his life was weird.

“And on your left, you’ll see our Research and Development center, where top Wakandan and American engineers and computer scientists work together to find new applications for vibrainium technology.” Bucky looked to where the tour guide was pointing and frowned. On the other side of a window, various scientific-looking people (re: nerds) were hovering around computer monitors and devices, talking and arguing. And none of them were Shuri.

“Excuse me?” A voice from the front of the group called. “I heard that the Princess Shuri sometimes works in these labs?” Well, that was handy.

The tour guide smiled in a practiced sort of way. “Yes, she does. But Princess Shuri keeps her own hours; it’s impossible to tell when she’ll be here and when she won’t.”

“ _Fantastic_ plan,” Loki hissed in Bucky’s ear. Bucky bit back the urge to flinch; he hadn’t realized the god was that close. “Absolutely _wonderful_.”

“Moving along!” The group ambled forward, but Bucky took a step back, out of view of the window. “Make me invisible,” he ordered quietly.

“I beg your—”

“Do it!”

“Oh, very well,” Loki huffed.

Bucky felt an arm on his shoulder, and then an odd sensation, like an electric shock entering his boy through his fingertip, traversing the entirety of his person, and exiting through his right big toe. He grunted in surprise.

“And now I suppose you expect me to just sit here and wait until her royal highness decides to show up?” Loki sounded entirely unimpressed with the whole situation.

“Unless you have a better plan.”

“Well, actually—”

“That doesn’t involve stealing from Shuri.”

A pause, and then a sigh.

Bucky almost wished Loki _did_ have a better plan; his mind started running through the likely chain of events. The tour guide was bound to notice one of her charges was missing, and she would likely do it sooner rather than later. This was a Wakandan facility, so there would be cameras everywhere. The cameras would only see him disappearing, which wasn’t as odd as it might have been a decade ago. People could do all sorts of weird shit now—he’d heard of some kid on Wall Street telling everyone who would listen about his glowing fist.

But still, it would be a security breech. And a security breech might result in whoever was in charge of Shuri’s security detail refusing to let her come in. Then they’d have to camp out in the building, invisible, until it was determined it would be safe for Shuri to come back, which could take _days_ , by which point they would be in no condition to go on some cross continental quest to eliminate hydra-owned politicians, which would mean even _more_ time spent in the company of the self-important, chatty—

Or Shuri could walk in the doors of the lab now, before any of that happened. Huh.

Shuri made her way through the room, smiling, and pausing to talk to people every few feet. Bucky watched her progress, until she was close to the window; then he knocked. Shuri jumped, and looked at him, frowning. Then she started to walk away.

“The fuck…” Bucky muttered, frowning. He knocked again. Shuri turned back, her frown deepening as she stared right at Bucky.

“You’re still invisible, you idiot,” Loki sighed.

Bucky felt the same sensation from before but in reverse, and Shuri screamed.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why didn’t you just call, you idiot?” Shuri demanded once security had been appeased and they’d moved to her private office.

Bucky blinked. “Uh…because it didn’t occur to me as an option?”

Loki sighed, and shimmered into existence. Bucky slapped his hand over Shuri’s mouth before she could scream again. “I am seriously regretting my choice of partners,” Loki drawled, dropping into one of the plush chairs in front of Shuri’s desk.

“I can explain,” Bucky said, slowly removing his hand from Shuri’s mouth.

Shuri glared. “You can explain it until I’m 100, and it won’t make any sense!”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Bucky joked weakly, “I’m way older than you. I’ll die long before you reach 100.”

Shuri shot him a withering glare, then turned her gaze to Loki, who watched the scene with obvious disinterest. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call for my brother, or alert any of the Avengers, right now?”

Loki sighed dramatically. “My dear princess, I assure you, I mean neither you, nor this city –or, indeed, this planet—any harm. You have my word.”

“And why should I believe you, colonizer?”

Loki blinked. “I had no part in that section of Midgardian history.”

“Did you or did you not come to a place you had no right to and try and take it over by force?”

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. Bucky stared for a moment. “I think you broke him.”

“Good.” Shuri looked Loki over contemptuously once more, and then turned her glare back on Bucky. “Alright, out with it, what’s happening?”

Bucky tried to call up a memory of what he’d been like before, when he’d been dashing and charming, and tried to paste some shadow of the smile he’d used to win people over back then onto his face now. Shuri raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot. Bucky sighed. “Alright, look. He can’t be with his people because of the whole ‘tried to take over the world’ thing. I have to hide out in Wakanda because of the whole ‘active assassin for half a century’ thing. But he has a plan to change all that. If we expose the rest of Hydra, we might be forgiven enough that he can go live in New Asgard, and I can go see Steve every so often.”

“And you really think that will work?” Shuri asked, narrowing her eyes.

Bucky shrugged, and wiggled his hand. “Maybe? If nothing else, we wipe out the remaining prominent members of Hydra, and he takes the trigger words out of my brain.” Bucky pointed over his shoulder at Loki.

Shuri was silent for a moment, before slowly turning to face Loki. “You can remove the triggers?” Loki nodded, his expression bored, having regained most of his composure. “How? Magic?”

“Of course,” Loki sniffed, meeting Shuri’s glare.

“And in what section of the brain or the words kept, hm? The temporal lobe or the occipital?”

Loki glared, affronted. “Neither. We talk about the words like they occupy a physical space, but they really just launch a trained chemical reaction within the hippocampus, largely, likely with some bleed over into the amygdala. If I can suppress the reactions in both areas, he’ll be free of the resulting suggestible state.”

Shuri glared for a moment longer, before turning back to Bucky. “Are you sure you can trust him?”

Bucky snorted. “Not even a little.”

“I am right here, you know,” Loki interjected.

“But, frankly, what choice have I got?”

“You know I’ve been working on it.” She hid it well, but Bucky knew her –and how to read people in general—well enough to hear the hurt in her voice.

“I know, and I will always be grateful. But I also know that you told me this could take years, even decades.” Bucky paused for a moment, looking for the right way to say it. “I’ve spent enough of my life under the control of others. If doing this will free me even a little sooner, I have to try.”

Shuri considered for a moment, before sighing. “Fine. I don’t like it, but at least this way, someone I trust is watching _him_.” She jerked her head at Loki, who wiggled his fingers in a mock wave. “What do you need?”

Bucky smiled.

 

 


	3. Trial and Error

Bucky flexed his new hand for the fifth time in the past hour. The arm itself looked much like the old one—there were only so many ways one could make a prosthetic arm. But the _feel_ —that was something else entirely. He’d had some sensation in the old arm; they’d hotwired the thing into his nerve endings. But even though the technology was advanced for the 40’s (or, really, _now_ , even) it simply couldn’t compare with the arm Shuri had designed.

It was made of vibranium, of course, and so was shock absorbent. But the synthetic nerve endings were _so_ much more sensitive in this one—he could feel every minute dent and divot and nail in the air vent he was currently crouched in.

Which was probably what he should be focused on—the air vent, not the arm.

Shuri had given him the arm with only a few more cautions, and only six more jokes at Loki’s expense (including a sold five minutes wherein any time Loki tried to speak, she just yelled “That’s what I thought you’d say, you stupid fucking horse!”). Once the arm had been properly attached and she’d finished testing his range of motion, Loki had promptly grabbed him by the flesh arm, and transported him out of there, muttering “Menace” under his breath as the world faded out around them.

Loki hadn’t wasted any time. He took them straight to Germany, where, apparently, a minor member of the cabinet had been slowly pushing Hydra-backed bills into the conversation. “It seems best to start small and work our way up, don’t you agree?” Loki had asked as Bucky worked to regain his balance after the dizzying journey. Bucky had grunted, trying to get his vision to stop swimming, and directed them to a safe house he still had set up from his years spent dodging Steve.

They’d spent the next two days planning. Bucky wanted to spend longer than that—as they were on no real deadline that he was aware of and it was best to take advantage of these sorts of open ended missions to get as much intel as possible—but Loki wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted the plan they’d worked out was fine, and in the end, Bucky reluctantly agreed with him. It was a solid plan. It could, as any plan could, be improved through a week or two of recon, but the idea of spending two weeks with an antsy Loki made him decide not to push the matter.

Which was why he was now, on day three in Germany, wriggling through an air-duct to access the home of their target.

Normally, Bucky would scoff at any movie that depicted the spy or whomever using an air duct as a point of entrance; they were much too small and flimsy to support the weight a fully-grown human. But the air ducts in the house of a government official in a post-enhanced human world…

These air ducts were designed to handle the force of all of the oxygen in the home being forcefully vented in the event of poisonous gas (which would end with damaged ear drums for all inhabitants, but that was generally preferred to death). The result was a larger, sturdier air vent that was only mildly uncomfortable for a fully-grown man with one metal arm to crawl through.

Loki would be meeting him inside. Apparently, his little transportation trick only worked with large areas, or if he knew the layout of the smaller area. Landing on a street in Germany: no problem. Landing in the living room of a house he’d never seen: not happening.

And so, Bucky was tasked with entering the home first, finding a place to hide, and then texting Loki. Loki had placed a sort of locator spell on Bucky (which Bucky tried very hard not to think about and failed _miserably_ ), which would allow him to transport to Bucky’s side.

Bucky ran over his mental map of the house. Getting the blue prints had been easy enough—it was an old house, so the blue prints were common domain. It was the sort of thing that wouldn’t have been overlooked had their target held more sway or made more waves within the cabinet, but as his main role appeared to be that of a warm body to fill a chair, his security detail apparently hadn’t thought of it.

He should be coming up on the office now. He peered through the grate and was rewarded with the sight of a personal library with a large, solid oak desk in the center of the room. Bucky paused, listening intently. From what he had observed (with what little time he’d been given to watch) the house should be empty now. A cleaning lady came in the morning, but she was gone by noon. The target’s wife seemed to have her own pursuits during the day, and the couple’s children were adults with their own homes and lives.

Hearing no sounds from within, Bucky set to work removing the grate and slithering into the room. He landed with the barest of thumps, bending his knees to absorb the shock. He listened intently, still crouched, but didn’t hear any movement coming to investigate.

Rising slowly, he stalked around the room, checking for cameras or bugs, and shutting the curtains as he moved. Unsurprisingly, he found no surveillance equipment. A spy in hostile territory would be wary of having recording equipment in the room where he spoke to his masters.

Once he was sure the room was secure, Bucky sent the text to Loki giving him the all clear. Seconds later, the god appeared next to him. “Well that took a ridiculous amount of time,” Loki snapped, moving immediately towards the desk and the laptop waiting there.

“Forgive me for making sure no one would be able to see or hear what we were doing,” Bucky snapped back, affronted.

Loki ignored him in favor of breaking into the computer. “Shouldn’t he have taken this with him to work?” Loki mused, typing furiously.

Bucky shrugged. “He probably has a separate laptop for work. Would you want to risk keeping your government files next to your secret organization files?”

Loki hummed in response, absorbed with his task. Bucky paced the room as he waited, listening for doors opening on the lower floors, or any other indication that they weren’t alone.

“Hah!” Loki crowed in triumph, making Bucky wince. “His password was ‘Redskull11.’ Amateur. What are we looking for?”

Bucky moved to hover behind Loki, peering over his shoulder at the screen. “Ideally, anything that says ‘Hail Hydra, my one true allegiance,’ but anything with directions on policy or instructions for alliances…” Bucky trailed off as Loki started sifting through the files, rapidly discarding one after another, until he stopped on an email from two weeks ago.

“Huh.” Bucky said after he finished reading the email.

“They did make it rather easy, didn’t they,” Loki agreed, a slight note of bewilderment in his posh voice.

The email, more or less, contained instructions for their target to oppose, in way possible, any pro-refugee laws that entered discussion. That in and of itself wasn’t _that_ abnormal; in the face of Syria, Sokovia, and New Asgard, many countries were pushing anti-refugee laws. The email, however, continued to explain that the research unit of Hydra was rebuilding, and they hoped to take in some of the more desperate refugees for experimentation purposes. In short, they had managed to get an email that was essentially a Bond villain’s monologue.

“…anything else?” Bucky asked.

Loki spent the next hour copying every incriminating file onto two flash drives—one for the German Federal Intelligence Agency, and one for the local news channel. Their target apparently never emptied the trash can on his laptop; it was a virtual goldmine of information. “You know none of the others will be this easy, right?” Bucky asked, peering through the curtain. The sun was going down; they’d need to leave soon. “After we release all of this, all of their other operatives will be ordered to destroy any personal computers and delete their files. They’ll also probably up their security.”

“Good,” Loki muttered absently, the glow of the screen turning his pale face translucent. “This was boring.”

Bucky turned form the window. “Are you trying to improve your reputation or find a source of entertainment?” He demanded.

Loki flashed him a grin and unplugged the drives. “My dear Sgt. Barnes,” he purred, pocketing the drives. “Who says I can’t do both?”

Suddenly, there was a burst of German swear words.

Bucky whirled around, the plates in his arm tightening in response to his stress. In the doorway, looking utterly bewildered, but not (yet) frightened, was their target. Finn Fischer, like most politicians, had a bland and easily forgettable face. He had less of a paunch than might be expected from a man in his mid-fifties, though Bucky assumed that was from some sort of evil-society-mandated training program.

“How’d you get in here?” Loki demanded, almost as bewildered as Fischer. His gaze darted to Bucky. “How’d he get in here?”

Bucky had _no fucking clue_. He thought he had the house on lock—he had been paying close attention ever since Loki got here, listening for doors opening and watching for any signs that Fischer was home early.

“Shouldn’t that be my question?” Fischer demanded in accented English. His eyes darted between the two intruders in his home, then to the computer on his desk. Bucky could see the gears whirring in the man’s brain, could see him beginning to sweat. How he got in, wound to his pride though it was, didn’t matter. What mattered was detaining him now before he could call for security or, worse, alert Hydra.

Glancing to the side table to his left, Bucky grabbed the decorative vase resting there and hurled it at Fischer. Instinctively, Fischer threw his arm up to block it from hitting his face, and Bucky surged forward.

Bucky new from experience that not all Hydra agents where combat trained. Too many of them were recruited in the field and unable to attend any sort of evil organization boot camp. Fischer, though, had some sort of training. The vase crashed against Fischer’s arm, making the man stumble. Bucky sung his metal fist towards the man’s exposed sternum, but Fischer swung his upturned arm down to block. Unfortunately for Fischer, the average blocking maneuver didn’t really stand a chance against a vibranium arm controlled by the Winter Soldier. Bucky’s fist hit home, Fischer broke his wrist and fell to the ground trying to gasp or scream in pain, but unable to draw the breath to do so.

“Well, that was efficient,” Loki drawled, lazily clapping from behind Bucky.

Bucky snarled, his adrenaline too high to deal with Loki’s antics. He stormed around the taller man to grab the computer chair and shove it towards their new hostage. Loki heaved the gasping man into the chair and tied his hands to the arm rests with rope he produced from fuck knows where.

“Well, now what?” Loki asked, glaring at Fischer with distaste before turning the glare on Bucky. “Do we just leave him here and carry on?”

Bucky grimaced and shook his head. “Can’t. Intelligence agencies are slow to move, no matter the country of origin. Germans will want time to verify the data and then launch the raid quietly. It’s not like they want it to get out they have a literal Nazi in a government position. Again.”

Loki rolled his eyes and turned to sneer at Fischer. “Human bureaucracy. So useless.”

Bucky shrugged. “We’ll just—”

But Loki was already pulling a knife from his sleeve (or possibly the void; Bucky wasn’t really sure and, quite frankly, _preferred to keep it that way_ ) and throwing it into Fischer’s chest.

“…turn him over with the evidence.” Bucky finished, staring as Fischer gurgled, then died.

There was silence for a minute. “I…suppose…that may have been the better choice,” Loki said slowly, tilting his head as he regarded Fischer’s corpse.

“…You think?”

“Yes, alright, I messed up,” Loki sighed, exasperated. He pulled his knife from Fischer’s chest, wiped the blood on his sleeve, and then slipped the blade back into the sleeve (and/or void) it came from.

Bucky rubbed his face with his flesh hand, the headache he’d had since agreeing to this whole thing intensifying. “Okay. New rule.”

“We have rules?” Loki asked in mild surprise.

“ _Yes_.” Bucky held up one metal finger. “One. No murdering unless a civilian is about to die. We figure something else out otherwise.”

“Yes, yes, fine.”

“Two. I get a week of surveillance on each target.”

“A _week_? We’ll be at this all year at that rate!”

“Do you have some sort of timeline you didn’t fill me in on?” Bucky demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “‘Cause you seem hell bent on getting through this as quickly as possible.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you _want_ to spend more time with me than is strictly necessary?” Bucky grimaced. “Precisely.”

“Just how many people are we going after, anyway?”

“Eighteen, but that is still four and a half months and more time than I would like to spend with only you as company.”

“Likewise,” Bucky deadpanned. The idea of Loki, God of Mischief, forced to spend seven days doing absolutely nothing was not one that inspired a lot of confidence. Bucky gave it a week and a half before Loki burned down a building just for something to do. “It’s not like you have to stay with me for the whole week. You drop me off in whatever location, I do recon for a week, you come back for infiltration, we get the data, and then do it all over again.”

Loki was quiet. _‘Small miracles,_ ’ Bucky thought to himself. “I suppose that is adequate.” Loki sighed. “I’m sure I can amuse myself for a few months.”

 _‘Yeah,_ ’ Bucky thought, keeping his face blank. _‘That’s what I’m afraid of._ ’


	4. Omissions and Confessions

Seeing as murdering a government official was on their “Do Not Do” list, Loki and Bucky agreed to call the situation with Fischer a practice run and to keep the information they’d pulled from his computer to themselves. Once they started bringing corrupt officials to the authorities and actually claiming responsibility, they’d likely be blamed for Fischer’s death, anyway, but since they didn’t leave any evidence behind (Bucky checked) and it didn’t follow the (soon to be) established modus operandi, nothing hard would be able to stick to them. That’s the logic Bucky was going with, anyway. It lessened his headache a bit.

Following Fischer, they moved on to Venezuela where, true to his word, Loki dropped off Bucky then fucked off to go do whatever gods do in their down time. Bucky tried not to think about it.

Bucky was able to spend his surveillance week watching Alejandro Alvarez, a member of the National Assembly, frantically increasing his security detail and then becoming, for all intents and purposes, a shut in. Bucky supposed it was to be expected, what with Fischer’s body being found tied to a chair with a stab wound to the chest, but it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. With Alvarez cramming himself and his bodyguards into one (admittedly _fucking massive_ ) house, it was going to be more difficult to access his computer than it had been with Fischer.

Still, by the time Loki showed up one week after dropping him off, Bucky had a plan. It was a very simple plan that didn’t have nearly enough excitement to please Loki, but an actionable plan.

They waited until three in the morning, when even the bar flies were starting to droop. This time, Loki would be coming in with Bucky, no magical transportation. Their first mission had been about stealth; this one would be about speed and force.

“Ready?” Bucky murmured, eyes locked on his target, rifle in hand. Beside him, Loki nodded, and daggers appeared in his hands. “Remember—everyone lives this time.”

“Yes, yes, fine. Can we get on with it?” Loki snapped.

In answer, Bucky fired three silent shots, one into each of the security guards making their rounds in the garden. Loki was rushing forward before they even hit the ground, bounding across bushes and flower beds before taking an inhuman leap to grab onto the edge of the Juliet balcony that looked over the garden.

Bucky stowed the rifle and hurried after. He paused to check the guards, each sporting a feathered dart in their necks. They’d wake in a few hours unharmed, but likely without jobs. Bucky didn’t really worry about what came after that—not his problem. He broke into a sprint and jumped for the balcony. Loki, still hanging from the edge, caught his wrist and threw him up and over the edge onto the balcony.

Bucky landed silently on the balls of his feet and waited as Loki hauled himself over. They waited behind the closed doors, listening to the footsteps of the guards on the other side. Bucky held up his fingers in a silent count down as the two pairs of footsteps on the other side of the door approached, and then passed each other. Loki worked some sort of unlocking spell on the door and pushed it open. Slipping through, Bucky hit the first guard in the back of the head, dropping the man, before he could turn around. Loki cracked the other guard across the temple with the hilt of his dagger, knocking his guard unconscious, too.

There was still silence in the house; so far, they’d managed to get in undetected. The problem with this particular plan was that it required them to find and neutralize every security guard in and around the home before they could even think about going after Alvarez; otherwise, someone would spot the bodies all over the place and call in for back up. Things would get a lot more difficult after that.

“I’ll clear the bottom floor, you take this one,” Bucky whispered. Loki nodded, and slipped off down the hall, quiet as a shadow.

Bucky moved silently down the stairs, his Gerber Mark II blade in a reverse grip in his right hand. The thin handle wasn’t quite as heavy as one of Loki’s daggers, but the blunt, rounded butt would do the job well enough. He found a total of seven guards on the main floor and took them out one by one. He took the time to bind and gag them once he was done knocking them out; it was always a bit spotty, figuring out when someone would recover from a blow to the head.

Moving back upstairs, Bucky went to work locating Loki, following the trail of bodies (and giving them the same treatment as the ones downstairs) until he found the other man poking through Alvarez’s library, an unconscious guard by the door.

“What are you doing?” Bucky demanded, glaring at Loki before bending to tie up the unconscious guard.

“This Alvarez man has terrible taste,” Loki sniffed. “Oh, sure, he _looks_ like he has all of the classics, but there’s too much dust on these for them to have _ever_ been read.” Loki paused. “He should hire a better maid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Buck snapped as he finished stuffing a gag into the guard’s mouth. He stood and glared at Loki. “We need to get Alvarez and get out.”

“After you, Sergeant,” Loki said with a mocking bow.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Bucky led the way out of the library and down to Alvarez’s bedroom.

Alvarez was fast asleep in his bed, completely unaware of the violence taking place in his house. Bucky pulled his handgun from its holster on his thigh but left the safety on. The upside about the business with Fischer was that Alvarez would believe his assailants were out for blood; that fear would be a good motivator, and Bucky planned to use it.

Bucky stood by the edge of Alvarez’s bed, and aimed his gun at the sleeping man’s face. Loki took a stance just behind him. “Wake up, asshole,” Bucky grunted.

“Ooh, _very_ threatening,” Loki murmured from behind him.

Bucky bit back his retort, as Alvarez was starting to wake up. Bucky nudged his temple with the gun to help encourage the man to open his eyes.

“¿Que…mierda!” Alvarez flinched, his eyes widening as he took in the two men standing over him. Bucky imagined they made quite the threatening picture; the Winter Soldier and Earth’s would-be conqueror.

“Get up,” Bucky grunted, nudging Alvarez again. Alvarez slowly slid from the bed, his eyes locked on the gun. “Let’s go. Take us to your computer.” Bucky motioned for Alvarez to lead the way and followed behind with his gun.

“What do you want my computer for?” Alvarez asked in Spanish. He held his hands in the air, and Bucky could see them shaking ever so slightly.

“Shut up and walk.” Alvarez led them down the hall to his study. As he saw the unconscious guards scattered over the floor, his hands started to shake a bit more, and Bucky had to shove back a thrill of satisfaction. “It’s in here…”

Loki strode past and pushed into the room, heading immediately for the computer. “What’s your password?” He asked, warming the machine up. Alvarez was silent, and Loki flashed him an annoyed glare. “You could tell me yourself, or I could make you tell me. Your choice,” and he smiled in such a way that even Bucky’s skin crawled.

“S-seven, six, five, c-capital l, capital b, lower case s.” Loki nodded in satisfaction and went to work.

“Sit down,” Bucky ordered, nodding towards a chair and keeping his gun trained on Alvarez. Alvarez hurried to the chair and dropped into it, his hands still shaking next to his ears. Bucky watched the man in disgust as he started murmuring a prayer under his breath in rapid fire Spanish. Hydra agents were always such cowards, when it came down to it. All the fighters died out a long time ago, and these simpering spies were left in their places.

“Anhelo. Horno. Recreo de dia. Diecisiete…”

Bucky flinched as Alzarez’s words crashed against his brain like bricks. “No!” He shouted, throwing his hands against his ears. How the fuck did Alvarez know the words? He didn’t have the book! Fuck, not now…

“Benigno.”

Bucky lurched towards Alvarez, his vision going black. He had to shut him up, had to stop him before he got to that last word. But he could already feel himself falling away, feeling the coldness creep into his veins as his conscious mind was called into the cryo chamber of his nightmares and the Winter Soldier clawed its way to the surface, searching for orders, ready for violence.

“Nueve. Regres—” Before Alvarez could finished, Loki’s fist crashed against the man’s skull, and Alvarez slumped in the chair, unconscious.

Bucky fell to his knees, gripping his head, and trying to pull himself back from the cold. His body vibrated, waiting for that last word. He hadn’t even known it could work in another language. How many of the others knew the words? Would they try to use the words when he and Loki came to their homes? He never should have agreed to this, never should have left Wakanda, never should have left cryo…

“Sergeant. Sergeant Barnes. Bucky!” Loki was crouched near to him, trying to get his attention, but staying warily out of arms’ reach. Bucky kept his eyes on the floor, kept panting, but tilted his head in the other man’s direction. “It’s over. You’re still in control.”

Bucky shook his head frantically. “’m not, though,” he grunted. The fingers of the metal hand dug into the floor, pulling up splinters and shards of wood. “I’ll never be in control until these words are out.” He lifted his wide, wild eyes to Loki’s impassive face. “You have to take them out, now.”

“No.”

Bucky bared his teeth, actually snarled, like some sort of fucking wild animal. “God damnit, can’t you see? He didn’t even have the fucking book!” He pointed towards Alvarez wildly, his usually controlled motions wild and forceful. “He just _knew_ the words. How many of the others are going to know them, too? You _have_ to take them out, _now_ , before one of these assholes turns me.”

Loki shook his head. “That was not our deal.”

“Fuck the deal!” Bucky surged to his feet and began pacing, running his flesh hand through his hair. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He needed to get out, to run, to hide. God, what if he’d hurt someone? What if Shuri had been here? Hydra had people everywhere, what if one of them managed to infiltrate the outreach center? It wasn’t safe for him to be out. He needed to go back under. “If you don’t take them out, now, I’m done. I’ll leave. You can figure out your own way to clear your name.”

Loki was quiet, but Bucky could see his jaw working. He was annoyed, angry, even. “I can’t,” Loki finally spat.

Bucky stilled. “What?”

“I cannot remove the words from your mind. Or, more accurately, I cannot stop the chemical response your brain has been trained to initiate when it processes the words.”

Bucky stared at Loki, his mind finally quiet. “You…can’t.” He laughed hollowly. “You lied. I don’t know why I’m even surprised.” His hand drifted toward his empty holster, and he realized he’d dropped his gun at some point.

“I thought I could figure out how to do it before the time for payment came.” Loki’s voice was smooth, emotionless. Bucky wanted to rip his silver tongue from his head.

“And did you get anywhere near finding a way?” Bucky asked, voice strained. Loki was silent. “Did you?” Bucky yelled.

“No,” Loki spat. “I did not. I cannot find any record of any sort of magic that can touch the brain. The only thing that seems to work is the mind gem, my scepter, but that is only for control, not erasing torture or brainwashing.”

“So, there’s nothing. No way to fix me.”

“I…am sorry, Sergeant Barnes. Truly.”

Bucky snorted. “Sure.” He walked to his forgotten gun, picked it up, and considered it for a moment. Would it do him any good to empty the clip into Loki’s chest? It would probably be cathartic. His words to Steve back in Romania floated through his mind; _‘I don’t do that anymore.’_ He grunted with annoyance and slammed the gun back in its holster and strode for the door.

“Sergeant Barnes, where are you going?”

“I’m done. You’re on your own.” His mind already running through escape plans and safe houses, Bucky walked out the door, out of the house, and into the night.


	5. Unlikely Heroes

Bucky went to ground. He tried calling Shuri that first night, tried begging her to put him back in cryo, but she just kept insisting she could help him, if he would come back, if he would keep trying the treatments, eventually…

He hung up, ditched the phone, and stole a car.

He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk her. He couldn’t risk Steve or Natasha or anyone else. So, he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky glanced around the cabin, giving it one last once over to make sure he hadn’t missed anything; he hadn’t, he never did. His possessions were sparse to begin with, and his methodical method of packing and unpacking meant he had everything in place within minutes. Still, habit had him double checking to make sure he left no evidence of his stay behind.

He’d been in this particular safe house for around two months, and his skin was starting to crawl. The logical part of his brain knew no one was actively hunting for him right now (though passive searching would likely continue until someone found his corpse), but the instinctual part of him was screaming to move, that he’d been in one place too long and someone would find him soon.

Plus, he was just really fucking sick of the cold.

“Anywhere in the world, and you choose _Alaska_?” A voice drawled from behind him.

Bucky spun, dropping his bag and pulling his gun in a smooth motion. Sprawled in one of the few chairs and looking thoroughly unimpressed was Loki. The unforgotten rage kicked up, and Bucky spent several terse seconds trying to convince his arm to lower the gun. It eventually worked.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky grunted, holstering the gun and bending to pick up his bag again.

“Enjoying the bleak scenery,” Loki deadpanned. “What do you think?”

“I told you, I’m out.”

“Yes, I do recall that particular conversation. It was very dramatic, and not in an enjoyable way.”

“Sorry I couldn’t offer you more in the way of entertainment.”

Loki waved a hand, as if forgiving the offence. Bucky’s eye twitched. “We both know you don’t need me to get to the Hydra agents. Sneaky plans are your thing. So why bother hunting me down?” Bucky paused. “How _did_ you find me?”

“I never took the tracking spell off of you from Germany. I’ve known where you are the whole time.”

Bucky cursed; he’d forgotten that. Sloppy. “Why now?”

Loki shifted in the chair; if Bucky didn’t know better, he’d say the other man looked uncomfortable. “I…may have acted in error when I made you…that promise.” Bucky snorted. “It seemed best to give you some space.”

“I appreciate that. I’d appreciate even _more_ space. Have you considered _returning_ to space?”

“Come now, Sergeant, we both know word play is my game, not yours.”

Bucky hiked his bag over his shoulder and started for the door. “Play your games all you want. But play them with someone else. I’m done.”

“Wait.” Bucky glanced at Loki as he passed, no intention of stopping, but Loki’s expression was so out of character, that Bucky found himself slowing. Loki’s usually stoic or smirking face was twisted, as if he’d tasted something sour. He worked his jaw as if chewing something particularly tough, before spitting (and it seemed to Bucky that he was almost _literally_ spitting out the words) “You have my sincerest apologies.” Loki shivered, as if repulsed, before carrying on. “I promised you a chance at freedom, a chance that was not mine to offer. And while I am generally not above lying in order to meet my goals, this lie was…particularly foul, and I am sorry I crossed that line.” Loki slumped a bit, as if the speech physically cost him.

Bucky blinked a few times. That was…unexpected, to say the least, and oddly disconcerting. “Right. Well, thanks. I’m still not helping you, though.”

Loki snapped upright again and turned narrowed eyes to Bucky. “But I apologized! Sincerely!”

Bucky sputtered in enraged confusion. “And you think that solves it? That it undoes the lie in the first place, or makes me trust anything else you said? For all I know, _everything_ you told me was a lie. Maybe you _are_ trying to destabilize world governments. How the fuck would I know?” He shook his head. “I’m done being involved in that shit. I’m done being used.”

“Oh, for f--! Fine!” Loki snapped, standing. “Look, so I wasn’t entirely honest.”

“No shit!”

“Yes, yes, you get the moral high ground, congratulations.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I lied about fixing your brain washing. I wasn’t lying about my motives…mostly.”

“Oh, big surprise.”

“Must you comment on everything I say?”

Bucky and Loki glared at each other for a moment. “Yes, it would be nice if you mortals would stop trying to assassinate me every five minutes. That was true. And the people we were targeting were Hydra agents. That was also true. It was also why I asked you to help me—you had a personal stake. I could care less that they’re Hydra; that organization is on its last legs and will die a natural death, very soon.”

“So why go after them?”

“What do you remember of Fischer’s orders?”

Bucky frowned. “Fischer was…supposed to pass anti-refugee laws. Hydra wanted to collect the diaspora for human experimentation.”

“Right. And did you see any of Alvarez’s?”

Bucky shook his head. “No.” ‘ _I was too busy losing my fucking mind._ ’

“Alvarez was under similar orders. Every member of Hydra we were targeting had the same orders: stop their respective countries from taking in refugees so Hydra would have more wayward mortals to choose from for their experiments.”

“Evil,” Bucky commented, his eyes narrowing. “But what’s that go to do with you?”

Loki’s lip curled. “Asgardians arrived here on Earth and claimed a stretch of land in Norway largely on the back of Thor’s celebrity. We claim to be setting up a new city, possibly a new country, but we are, in truth, refugees. Our continued residence on this planet rests in the hands of the United Nations taking a vote. The United Nations is split—after everything your planet has been through in recent years, half of them think having a population of aliens with increased strength and durability taking up residence on your planet will help to increase the overall defenses of the planet. The other half seems to think we intend to take over the planet. Hydra was advising their lackeys to vote against the Asgardian population, knowing that planetary deportation would be difficult, to say the least, and they would likely be able to get their xenophobic little hands on some wayward Asgardians to experiment on.”

“So, what, it was some sort of national pride that inspired your plan?” Bucky asked skeptically. It would explain Loki’s need to hurry a bit. But something about it still didn’t fit.

Loki tilted his head side to side and hummed. “That and…well, my people aren’t _overly_ fond of me. Even though I _am_ the one who brought the ship that got them off the planet. _Apparently_ , most of them still haven’t forgiven me for masquerading as my father for over a year.”

“You did _what?_ ”

“And so stopping their deportation and establishing myself as the savior of Asgard, _yet again_ , might earn me their good will. And possibly get me my statue back.”

“Your _what?_ ”

“And _that_ is the full truth.”

Bucky shook his head, the headache that he’d only just gotten rid of coming back. “Is there _anyone_ who doesn’t hate you?”

“Thor.”

“Thor doesn’t have much in the way of a sense of self-preservation, does he?”

“Not really, no.”

Bucky laughed humorlessly. “Well, thanks for the story, but I still don’t see why I should risk my neck to help you.”

“Ah, yes, well, I’ve been working on that.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, instinctual unease churning in his stomach. “I can’t use magic to undo your brainwashing. I’m sorry, but it simply isn’t possible. But I _can_ help you get rid of what is left of the organization that did the brainwashing in the first place.”

“Weren’t we doing that, anyway?”

“Well, the list of names I gave you really only encompassed the people _I_ needed removed from power. There were a few others that I may have neglected to mention. For the sake of expediency.”

“Un-fucking-believable” Bucky muttered, turning his eyes to the ceiling.

“But I will share with you the full list of remaining Hydra members. The ones I’m aware of, anyway. There may be a few I haven’t found. _But_ ,” he added, holding up a finger when it looked like Bucky was going to yell at him again. “ _But_ , I will help you interrogate any members we find to see if we can find anymore. And I will make sure no one says the words that can control you.” Loki squinted. “Actually, I may be able to devise a spell that will act as a sort of dampener to that particular frequency of sound waves.”

“Don’t promise me magic you don’t have again.”

“I’m not promising anything, it simply just occurred to me. I will work on that spell, it might work, it might not. If nothing else, I can always steal the voice of anyone who starts to say them.”

“You can…right. Of course. That’s a thing.” Bucky shook his head. “Why do you even need me to help with this?”

Loki sighed. “Because when I hand information over to the media, even those opportunistic vultures get wary and decide not to run the material. I’ve given them _three_ data sticks with information on Hydra members, and not _one_ has run the story. The one you and I got from Alvarez, however, I turned that one over with _both_ our names and it was the headlining story for _an entire week_. Your name carries the weight I need to be heard.”

Bucky blinked. “ _Why?_ That doesn’t make any sense.”

Loki shrugged, annoyed. “I told you. You are Captain Rogers’s best friend. It carries more weight than it should.”

Bucky was silent, thinking. Was he really considering doing this again? Sure, it seemed like all of Loki’s cards where on the table this time, but Bucky doubted Loki would ever give up _all_ his secrets. Still, though. The story he’d painted was full enough that anything he’d left out couldn’t be _too_ damaging. Probably.

And if he couldn’t get rid of the words, maybe he could at least get rid of everyone who _knew_ the words. That, at least, would be better than running and looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. Bucky eyed Loki appraisingly. Loki didn’t even bother to paste the charming smile on his face this time; he just waited for judgment.

“I’ll shoot you if you lie to me again.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where do we start?”

 

[Unlikely Heroes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905865)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the amazing RenneMichaels for the fantastic art and limitless patience. And thanks to you for reading until the end!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unlikely Heroes - Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905865) by [RenneMichaelsArt (RenneMichaels)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenneMichaels/pseuds/RenneMichaelsArt)




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